


Sinking Stones

by rensrenegade



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Character Death In Dream, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Gen, Not Really Character Death, Possible Character Death, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 14:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13192413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rensrenegade/pseuds/rensrenegade
Summary: Because every night he bore witness to the torture, and sometimes deaths, of those closest to him, his retainers- his best friends. And when he woke, Noctis was faced with the sleep-deprived bags and red tinge under Prompto’s eyes, and the worry line Ignis most likely thought no one would notice, and the longer runs that Gladio went on- alone. He was doing this to them, wasn’t he? He was torturing them, killing them… and they had all already been through, and lost, so much. (For FFXV Secret Santa 2017)





	Sinking Stones

It was screaming underwater, an unhinged jaw, and manic eyes that paralyzed the young prince. His steely eyes furrowed slightly, peering closer to the pool, past his reflection with eyes that did not match his own; but the sanguine eyes did not hold his interest. The face below his, completely inhuman, with screams bubbling to the surface, a hand reaching toward him- grasping water, then nothing. False hope. 

But he recognized that face. Not the expression, because the person never showed more than an ounce of emotion. He recognized the green eyes, which were usually hidden behind glasses, and the hair usually gelled in a neat style so as to not blind him in combat. 

Ignis. 

Noctis woke with a start, chest heaving as if he had been the one in the water. His heart pounded violently in his chest, as if it was desperately trying to escape. He placed a hand over his sternum, calmed his breathing as his adviser had taught him in times of high stress, and ran a trembling hand through his sweat-soaked hair. 

His throat burned and his eyes stung as he tried his best to settle down, to focus on the here and now instead of the dream world that regularly decided to toy with his mental state and heart strings. 

Because every night he bore witness to the torture, and sometimes deaths, of those closest to him, his retainers- his best friends. And when he woke, Noctis was faced with the sleep-deprived bags and red tinge under Prompto’s eyes, and the worry line Ignis most likely thought no one would notice, and the longer runs that Gladio went on- alone. He was doing this to them, wasn’t he? He was torturing them, killing them… and they had all already been through, and lost, so much. 

He was the water that trapped Ignis, that silenced his screams, that drowned him- all of them. Wasn’t he? 

“Your highness.” 

Noctis didn’t think he had ever been so relieved and happy to hear the voice of his adviser. 

Ignis sat across from him in the camper, a mug of Ebony in his left hand and another cup of cocoa was extended to him. Noctis managed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and accepted the offer. 

The two sat in silence as they sipped their drinks. Noctis glanced to the clock on the bedstand beside the sofa sleeper and red numbers blinked at him- 5:15. 

Too damn early to be awake. 

“Gil for your thoughts?” the bespectacled man asked, the worry line in his brow ever-present as his piercing eyes looked at his long-time friend. Noctis shrugged, and his hands tightened around the warm mug; the heat and solidity of the cup helped to center him and clear his head. 

“Why’re you up?” Noctis responded with his own question. 

“Not everyone sleeps half the day away,” the raven-haired prince raised an eyebrow at his companion; he had been expecting a long-winded explanation of getting ready for the day, or marinating vegetables that he wouldn’t eat anyway, or something. Not blatant sarcasm and a jab at him. 

The air was tense, as if they were both holding something back, but there was also a mutual understanding that neither was going to talk about the giant chocobo in the room. 

And so after finishing his cup of cocoa, Noctis returned to the sofa sleeper to attempt sleep. Ignis did not make a retort, instead he left the camper, and Noctis was asleep before he heard the door shut behind him. 

Thankfully his dreams were not memorable, and he woke up in a much better state, although the shakiness of too much rest made him slightly woozy. As per usual, he was the last one to wake, and he was greeted by the brightness of the sun and his friends’ laughter as he walked out of the rented RV. 

Prompto was joined in a laughing fit with Gladio, who slugged the small blond on the shoulder and wiped his eyes. 

“Mornin’,” Noctis greeted with a voice thick with sleep. The harmonious laughter faded to mere echoes as Gladio and Prompto smiled up at the prince. “What’s so funny?” 

“This picture Prompto took,” Gladio said, suppressing another fit of snickers. 

“It’s of the sunset!” The gunner protested as Gladio handed over the camera. “I swear I didn’t-“

“Uh-huh,” Gladio scoffed, completely unconvinced. “You can see an absolutely beautiful sunset, and right next to it is a fu-“

“Gladio,” Ignis’ pointed voice stopped the shield in his tracks. 

Prompto cleared his throat, clearly trying his best not to smile yet failing miserably. 

“Well, it’s a land formation…” 

“Uh… huh…” Noctis said slowly, the corner of his lips twitching upward as he saw just why they were giggling like school girls. 

“Sure looks like a one-eyed monster, don’t it?” Gladio couldn’t quite finish his sentence without laughing, and was soon joined once again by Prompto. 

Noctis let out a slightly amused chuckle and rolled his eyes. 

Leave it to the band of merry men to cheer him up. Even though his worry and anxiety was still clawing at the back of his mind like an angry coeurl. 

“Alright, alright,” Ignis did his best to stifle the giggling trio. “We have a long day ahead of us, the sooner we get started the sooner we can continue this… stimulating conversation.” 

Gladio muffled his guffaw. 

“Cool,” Noctis mumbled, despite the overwhelming feeling in his gut to just stay at the camper. “let’s get to it.” 

 

In the middle of the battle against the garula, Noctis sank back into his dream. Reality faded around him and the blade in his hand fizzled to nothing but shards that fell into the black water in front of him. 

Noctis knelt down on the bank, the grass felt more like razor sharp blades than the soft prickle of grass in reality. And perhaps it was a million tiny knives, as black sludge, like blood from the demons, ran oozed from under his knees, and trickled to the edge of the embankment. And dripped slowly, slowly into the water. 

Or… was that blood? 

Noctis touched his knee and quickly pulled his hand away. Black coated his hand, and his legs burned from his touch. 

He was bleeding black. 

His eyes turned back to his reflection, the gaunt, pallid face, the vibrant red eyes that stared vacant back at him. The face that was but wasn’t his. 

And below that, below him, violet-blue eyes locked onto him, blond hair weightless in the water, above the freckled forehead. The lips that were almost always in a reckless smile were now stretched wide as the young man struggled to breathe. Bubbles of air escaped his mouth and nose, and his hands punched at nothing. 

Prompto. 

And Noctis did nothing except sit and stare. 

He was letting him die. Letting him breathe in this blood, daemon blood. The same blood that seeped from his own body. Had he always bled black? Had he always been full of this tarry muck? 

“Noct-“ 

Prompto’s voice gargled up at him, desperate. Screaming. 

“Noctis!” 

The prince’s eyes snapped open and he found himself gazing up at light puffy clouds in the endless sunny sky. And then the sun was matched and bested by the blond tuft of hair that entered his vision, and freckles. 

Prompto?

Noctis moved to sit up, but he felt a strong hand hold him down. He turned, much too slowly for his comfort and saw Gladio holding him down. 

“Dude, what…” the blond gunman trailed off, his voice tinged with worry. “Are you okay?”

“What the hell was that?” Gladio asked, his tone did not match Prompto’s. Instead he sounded annoyed. 

“I…” Noctis trailed off, then shrugged. His eyes shifted to Ignis, who was looking down at him with the same look he wore this morning. “I don’t… know?” 

Ignis’ hand moved to his forehead, and he gave a quiet tut. 

“Not a fever, are you sure you ate enough this morning?” Noctis nodded. Plenty. It was just the stupid dreams… now hallucinations- whatever they were. 

“I suppose we could cut the day short, but we’ll have to camp tonight.” Ignis muttered, mostly to himself. “Gladio, will you take him?”

“Guys, c’mon I can-“ but the three men ignored him, and he found himself hoisted in the air by tattooed arms. 

“Nah, not today sleeping beauty,” Gladio hissed, “can’t even get through a damn fight without sleeping…”   
And there it was. Noctis closed his eyes and tried to ignore the strain in Ignis’ voice, the grievance in Gladio’s, and the overactive worry in Prompto’s. Here he was torturing them all again, just like in his visions. 

But he couldn’t find himself doing anything about it. He couldn’t talk about it, or what he was seeing, he couldn’t apologize… there was nothing he could do. It was a hopeless situation and all it would do is push his best friends away. 

Yet deep down inside, some distant voice told him that this was when he needed them the most. Pushing them away would only harm him even more. 

As Gladio had apparently prophesized, Noctis had indeed fallen asleep on the way back to their campsite. He found himself in a sleeping back by the fire, surrounded by a blue ward that ensured their safety throughout the night. 

He smelled Cup Noodles and whatever Ignis was cooking, something savory and heavy by the way it tickled his olfactory senses, and he blinked a couple of times before sitting up. 

“Rise and shine,” Prompto chirruped, but the cheerful voice seemed forced. Noctis nodded to his best friend and scrubbed a hand through his sweaty, dusty and sleep-mussed hair. 

He felt exhausted; not the ‘I need more sleep’ exhaustion, but the deep ache in the bones, struggle to breathe, fighting to see kind of exhaustion where everything hurt and there was no explanation why. It made him feel completely useless. 

“I saved you some stew,” Ignis told him, handing him a bowl. But Noctis’ stomach clenched and coiled at the thought of food, and the back of his throat tasted acrid. 

“Thanks.” 

He forced the spoon in his mouth and held back from gagging as he swallowed. After a few minutes he simply couldn’t eat anymore, out of fear of vomiting, and handed the bowl back to Ignis. 

“You sure you’re feeling okay, buddy?” Prompto asked. Another nod. 

He couldn’t stand to look at his friends, or even be around them. Their presence (or was it his?) was too much, too painful; but the only way he could truly escape them was sleep. And even then… they were there. 

They would always be there. 

No matter if his eyes were open or closed, or where he looked, they would always be there with him. And while that was a reassurance it was also a death sentence, a curse; at least that’s what it felt like. When the world tumbled down he didn’t want them to be in the crossfire. But the world was tumbling and anymore it felt like he had a target on his head. 

So with a churning stomach and reeling mind, Noctis turned in, despite the fact he had been sleeping for who knows how long. He listened to the three talk, he heard their concerns and he could feel Ignis’ eyes on him, calculating just how slowly his chest rose and fell. He felt the fire dwindle beside him, he heard Gladio’s snores, the clink of metal and plastic as Ignis folded his glasses, the quiet mumbling that assured him that Prompto was asleep. 

And Noctis closed his eyes, and came face to face with the inky black pool. His own emaciated face, rimmed with black eyelids and pulsing red. Gladio reached for him beneath the black water, he pounded the surface which did not break, he kicked and yelled but remained stuck. Eventually his thrashing slowed until nothing. No movements, no bubbles. No fighting. 

All he could do was stare. 

He stared into the black pool, into the face of Gladio, until it all faded away to nothing. He stared into the void, the abyss that had enveloped him and made him feel everything and nothing at once. He stared at himself, at the red eyes, the black sludge. 

Noctis stared, and Noctis stared back. 

He couldn’t bear to watch Gladio give up, to see Ignis scream, to hear Prompto’s desperate voice calling his name. He couldn’t be the cause of that. 

If his visions were a manifestation of his guilt he could live with that. If they were premonitions then no, there was no way he could sit idly by. But the quietest corner of his mind begged to differ; in all of his visions he had done nothing to save them. He let Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto fall, so many times. And he was letting them fall now. 

So he wouldn’t watch them be tortured. He wouldn’t watch them die. 

Noctis opened his eyes and felt rested for the first time in… forever. A small smile settled on his face and he stood up from his sleeping bag. 

He grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler beside the ashes from last night’s fire, and sipped slowly. 

Something red caught his eyes and he swirled the bottle, but the red did not move. He furrowed his eyes and looked closer, looked deeper into the crystal clear water. 

Red eyes stared up at him, and all he did was look away.


End file.
